


be silent

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Horror, I really tried for an ominous vibe, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: An immortal wanders down a forest path...
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	be silent

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening: In The Woods Somewhere by Hozier.

He should never have opened that book.

He trudged down the forest path, the rain doing nothing to wash away the grave-dirt ground into his skin, thick in his hair, coating his thin shirt and trousers. He felt feverish and freezing cold, shivering, clutching the wound in his chest. The wound was healed, but it still ached with every breath.

Dead, dead, all of them, and he should be, too…

The book had promised him the ability to learn all there was for humanity to know. He should have read closer. He should have looked for the trap. Immortality was a curse he couldn’t take any more.

His lip trembled. Dead, all of them. He should be, too. But no; he had simply been flung atop the bodies of his fallen friends and covered with dirt and stones. As if dirt and stone could hold one who lived without breathing, who moved without blood. Raven… oh, Raven, who would have lived forever at his side, if not for the silver ax and the wooden stake.

Sobs built in his chest, but instead of crying, he simply coughed up more dirt. Who would’ve thought there’d be any left…

A scream to his right, high-pitched and distorted. A woman’s voice. He turned and fought through the bushes that marked the path, running as fast as he could, so he would not losing his bearing on the sound. Another scream, strangled and flat. He tripped, fell, and found himself in a tiny clearing. He scrambled to his hands and knees, looked up—and saw the fallen body of a young woman, her long dark hair tangled, her coat torn… her flesh torn…

Dead. The stench of fresh blood, and the enormous bite taken from her side, exposing organs and broken ribs, were clear indicators. He crawled forward, shuddering, but not sickened by her state. He had lain among the mutilated bodies of his heart-kin. He was not afraid.

Softly, he brushed her hair from her face. Her dark eyes were wide, unseeing, her mouth gaping from her final scream. He let out a small sob. More death. Oh, god, he could have saved this one, if only he had been faster…

A low growl, so low that it was more a feeling than a sound, began off to his left. Slowly, he raised his head, and looked.

The creature was large. Its body was so dark it was almost impossible to see in the gloom of rain and thick forest. Shining fangs and eyes of pale grey were the only truly visible parts of the creature. Its growl rose, hungry for more, and ready to take its new victim too.

Something he had thought lost to him rose then, choking him and making his muscles tense. Fear. An immortal should not fear. But when the creature lunged, he was on his feet and running for the path before it could catch him. He didn’t breathe anymore, but his lungs still heaved, and the terror in him drove him to run faster than he had ever run before. There was a snarling howl behind him, a hunter cheated of soft prey, and then he ran into the bushes lining the forest path and flipped over them to land on his back in the mud.

He didn’t let himself lie there, trembling. He stood shakily, and began walking, quickly, hoping he was going the right direction. Was he even on the right path? God, he hoped so. He walked for hours; it seemed morning never came, and the rain never left. There was still grave-dirt under his fingernails.

There was a small branch of a path up ahead, suddenly. It led to a squat, square blob of darkness with a single yellow light… a house? Oh thank god. He hurried up the branch, not even noticing when the protective bushes petered out. The path was well-trodden, many footprints toward the house. No footprints away.

He did not notice.

Yes, it was a house; he sobbed in relief, and stumbled up the porch to knock on the door. He shivered there, on the porch, and suddenly was struck by the realization that… he had not wanted to die. He had been cursing his life, and yet he had not wanted to die. What…

The door opened. A tall man stood there, with pure white hair and eyes of palest grey. But they were human eyes, in a human face; with a thin, trembling voice, the immortal asked, “Please, sir, m-may I stay the night? I have been walking… a long time.”

“Yes, you have,” noted the man dispassionately. “Your name?”

“Charles.”

“Hmm. Come in.”

The man stepped aside, and Charles entered the house, glad of the warm golden light of the fire… until he saw the pile of bones in the corner, and the corpse on the table, and the mound of darkness with pale grey eyes in the shadows. He froze, terror in his throat again.

“By the way,” said the man, as he closed the door and locked it. “I’m Erik.”


End file.
